Zippered Lips
by LoyaltyFalters
Summary: 28 year-old Poseidon Olympia would have laughed if not for the realism of the situation. A child having a child. There was only a sixteen years difference between Percy and himself, so how could any sane human-being allow him to take care of a traumatized twelve year-old? Especially a mute one? WIP. AU. Family/Drama/Hurt-Comfort.
1. Chapter 1

_**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, nor do I own anything that involves Rick Riordan or Mythology. I am a teenage girl with some time on her hands, and that's all. This is for practice, not profit.**_

* * *

He had gotten used to the smell of disinfectant. The bright white walls still made his eyes tear up, though that could have been for a different reason. Percy tried to ignore the bouquet of pink carnations that adorned his mother's bedside table, a few already wilting pathetically into themselves.

Now that he thought about it, they reminded him of his mother. _That was sad._

Sally's parched lips parted to speak, white against white.

"Promise, Percy." The boy didn't understand. His mother was a smart lady, smarter than anyone he had ever met—and his English teacher was pretty smart. Why would she—? A hacking noise caught his attention and effectively cut off his train of thought.

Terrified, the green-eyed ten year-old eyed the woman who was currently coughing into her clenched fist on the hospital bed. Percy knew she didn't want him to see it, but the splatter of blood coating her paler-than-snow skin—which was tinged the slightest bit of blue—was painfully obvious.

"Mom…" _Please_, his thoughts begged. _Don't make me…_

_"Perseus Haley Jackson, promise me!"_ He flinched, eyes flashing as they darted about. How could someone so sick yell so loud? He was sure the walls shook with the power her voice held, and remembered the times when his mother never yelled.

Percy had thought her hand squeezing his couldn't get any tighter, but she managed just fine. His face shifted into countless expressions, one after the other, before his mouth finally settled into one grim line.

Ignoring how his body shivered from the suddenly too-cold room, he nodded. His mother smiled.

It was a scary sight.

**_Two Years Later_**

Poseidon Olympia would disagree if anyone said he enjoyed having a rich father. He would complain that he had never been around when he was child, that Kronos didn't even care for him, but you could see the sparkle in his eye that told a whole other story—after all, money was all he had. Poseidon remembered growing up with the finest toys there was on the market, the delicious and expensive food his sickly mother had prepared (He licked his lips at the very _thought_) and the huge bedroom he had slept in with its bed smothered in pillows. It made up for the mostly absent father part of his childhood.

And even now, instead of family, he had money. Or, more importantly, his _father's_ money.

Poseidon had literally nothing that was his own.

He had no job, his father was the one who bought his house for him, and the last time he had managed to find an acceptable date (not a fling) was over three months ago. And despite all these flaws… To the world, Poseidon was the famous son of Kronos Olympia, with his good looks and countless surfing trophies. He was _perfect_.

Personally, he didn't know what they were talking about.

But because of this fame—this _perfection_, Poseidon was extremely used to silly rumors that floated around. In fact, there had been several reports about how he had a harem of breast-less, exotic wives whose tongues were like snakes and hair just as coiled.

To be perfectly blunt, he had refused to listen to any more of the bull that popped up here and there after that.

So when a social worker showed up at his home on an early Monday morning—his pudgy face beaming and his nametag reading "Tedd"—he slammed the door in his face. Honestly, who had time for such a stupid thing?

Tedd the social worker knocked again. And again. And again.

And again. _Ridiculous._

Poseidon swung open the door and eyed the worker's sweaty visage with barely kept contempt. It was too early to smile. "Yes?" he asked through gritted teeth. The man's smile seemed to brighten, and Poseidon swore his eyes started to liquefy.

"Hello, Mr. Olympia!" Tedd chirped. "I'm so sorry to bother you at such an early time, but—"

"If this is about my supposed harem," he cut him off, scowling, "I wore protection." It was too early to have proper humor as well. Tedd blushed so hard even his ears turned red.

"Uh, n-no, sir, it's nothing like t-that…" His expression turned serious, and the esteemed surfer liked him even less. "I'm here to talk to you about Sally Jackson."

For a second, Poseidon swore his heart stopped beating. His breath hitched.

"S-Sal?" he stuttered. Yes, the man remembered Sally Jackson quite well. He remembered her pretty smile and the way her slim fingers always moved to tuck back the stray lock of hair that didn't exist, and he certainly remembered the love they had shared over twelve years ago. He hadn't seen her in years. The last time was… Poseidon swallowed hard before gathering some composure. "What about her?" He attempted to sound uninterested. Tedd just smiled in compassion.

Yeah, he definitely didn't like him.

"Well, I'm afraid she has passed away…" Poseidon gapped. Mostly because the idea of lively Sally being dead was absurd, but also because the man literally had no tact.

"Excuse me?" he asked hollowly. Tedd the idiotic social worker repeated himself, and continued to explain that she had died almost over two years ago over some disease Poseidon didn't care to think about. _Sal's dead... Sal's dead? _He shook his head once, twice, and finally met the man's nondescript brown eyes. Tedd gave the shocked man a small smile and continued. "She left you something." He blinked.

"Why would she do that?" The social worker laughed.

"I don't believe she had much of a choice!" He shook his head, amused. Poseidon didn't get it. He told him as much. Tedd's annoying, now shit-eating grin widened a fraction, revealing a piece of beige-colored food stuck between his teeth. "You have a son."

Now Poseidon was the one laughing.

_**-P-J-O-**_

After a cup of coffee (He was on his second cup now) and having Tedd explain everything for the fifth time, the words finally sunk in. _"It was quite unfortunate,"_ he had said, clucking his tongue. _"I've heard so many wonderful things about Mrs. Jackson. And to imagine, her own son had to watch her fade away!" _It was just sick, and Poseidon didn't know what to think.

"What's he like?" He questioned after a few moments of awkward silence. Tedd sank into his leather couch, his face screaming This Might Take a While. He was sure his expression screamed This Is Just like the Movies and I Didn't Sign Up For This.

Poseidon swallowed hard, and took another gulp of the piping hot liquid. It burned his tongue, but he ignored it, steeling himself for the worst.

"His name is Perseus, though I believe he likes to be called Percy." The social worker shrugged. "I've never really met the poor boy, though, so I can't tell you much. All I know is that my buddy Mike—he's a social worker too—is pretty attached to him. He would be here himself, but I think he's taking the kid out to break the news." Poseidon's bright eyes narrowed.

"Break the news?" He repeated.

Tedd grinned, shaking his head almost fondly. "Break the news about you, obviously." He just blinked. "Perseus doesn't even know that you exist."

"Oh."

"That about sums it up, yes." Well, that was lame. Poseidon, who was now apparently a father _(And wasn't that just hilarious?)_, didn't know what to think as he scrubbed a hand across his eyes.

"This is just fantastic." His words were harshly grumbled out and gruff. "I mean, how am I supposed to take care of a kid?" He had been sixteen when he had last seen Sally Jackson, and they had not been on the best of terms when they had separated ways. When_ he_ had ditched _her_, to be specific. He cringed despite himself. What a dick, he scolded.

But he couldn't focus on that now. That was in the past.

Perseus, however, wasn't. He was a problem, and a big one at that.

He was only twenty-eight, so how could he be expected to take care of a troubled preteen? There was only a good sixteen years between them, it seemed, and Poseidon still felt much like a child himself.

Could he just… not take him? There would be better parents, better people… They could take him in, care for him… Maybe that Mike-guy Tedd was speaking of…

But no. Poseidon couldn't do that. His own father had at least not abandoned him, even if he wasn't the best… He had moaned and complained about his father when he was younger, still did, but if he ditched his own son… He'd just be a hypocrite, and Poseidon hated those kinds of people. "Why wasn't I informed sooner? You say she's been," he clenched his fists, "_deceased_ for a while now." The social worker was positively embarrassed.

"Well… You see, some important papers have been misplaced for some time now, and…" Tedd averted his eyes. "Some new information has…popped up; the situation has changed."

"Changed?" he asked, suspicious. Tedd fiddled his thumbs.

"Perseus was staying with his step-father till a couple of days ago. He was deemed unfit to take care of a child." Poseidon opened his mouth to say something, sea green eyes flashing, but Tedd pressed on hurriedly. "I can't give you much information, t-this kind of t-thing isn't in m-my field!" The man stuttered out part of his sentence, having the guts to actually look ashamed as he stared up into the new father's furious eyes.

_Good_, Poseidon thought sneeringly. He froze. One question floated in his head.

And for the life of him, he couldn't find the answer for it.

* * *

Please don't kill me! I know I haven't been on in forever, but... Okay, I don't really have an excuse. To be honest, I've had Writer's Block for only God knows how long now, and I still haven't gotten rid of it. This little story-line has been in the works for around six weeks, and I just now managed to get it down on paper (document?). And look at how short it is!

On that note, don't expect me to update often. I just figured that you guys deserved a little something. Have you forgotten about me yet?

-Loyalty

I really need to change my username, ugh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Your name is Loyalty, and you own nothing.**

* * *

This had to be some sick joke.

Any minute now, Mike would stroll in, grinning ear-to-ear as he shouted _"April Fools!"_ Percy chose to ignore the fact that it was July, not April.

He waited a few minutes. Mike did not open the pale canary yellow door. He did not pop out of the floor, or lower from the ceiling like a tap-dancing angel. He did not appear at all. The room was sullenly silent.

This couldn't be happening. Maybe he was dreaming?

Percy pinched himself. Nothing but quickly reddening skin.

It wasn't fair. He hid his head in his hands, ignoring the way his eyes burned. His slim, pianist-like fingers dug into his scalp. Not fair, it just wasn't fair…

The door suddenly slammed open, hitting the wall behind it. Percy's head shot up, eyes widening and expression turning hopeful. Mike Aldeia stood at the door, posture oddly formal and stiff. His usually spiked up auburn hair was slicked back, and covering his brilliant blue eyes were a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. He had switched out his ball-cap and t-shirt for a suit and tie. Looking closer, Percy noticed he looked rather pale, his caramel skin looking sickly in the harsh lights of the waiting room he was now chilling in.

Percy didn't say anything, but his eyes said it all. His lips curved into a disapproving frown as Mike grinned. Or, attempted to. "I'm fine, kiddo." A glare, a snort. The middle-aged social worker sighed. "I met your father today." The teen's mouth dropped open. _'Seriously?!'_ his expression seemed to scream. The tall, intimidating man simply nodded, making his way towards Percy and kneeling in front of him.

"Tedd was right," he admitted to the child, "he's freaking scary!" Percy stared. The idea that Mike, a man of 6'3 in height and meaty fists to match, was uneasy about this guy was never a good sign. What if he ended up being some jerk? Would he even want Percy around?

Did Percy even want _him_ around? (_Yes, yes you do_, a voice taunted in his head.)

Mike noticed the look on his face and immediately sobered. "He seems like a nice kid, Percy." _Kid?_ "He's pretty young, only twenty-eight or so. I think… I think you'll like him. He's got character." The middle-schooler didn't know why he had imagined his father older; he knew his mom had only been sixteen when he was born. But… When he had been young, all he could imagine was a mean old man who made his mother cry. He couldn't even mention his name without her head turning away from him and her eyes tearing up.

She'd always leave the house for a smoke after that, and he had hated his father because of it. He still did.

So what could he do now?

It wasn't just about him, unfortunately. Or even his father. (His name was Poseidon, right?)

There was Gabe too.

Gabe had been there when his father had not, and that counted for something. He had taught him how to play poker and without him, Percy would have never survived the harsh realities of the streets. He owed Gabe that much, even if he wasn't the best… His stepdad was all he had, and truly not a bad man. _He wasn't._

Gabe was—_was_—the only thing he had. And now he had nothing at all… He would never see Gabe again, and now everything he had worked fo

He knew the answer. Percy would keep quiet and behave, just like his mother had made him promise.

After all, he'd been keeping his word for over two years now.

"Percy..."

**-P-J-O-**

What was this feeling? The gnawing, churning sensation in his gut grew stronger the longer he waited. It wasn't painful, but it reminded him of the butterflies he often got when he competed against other surfers. Only, it was far more intense.

Sitting hunched in a cheap plastic chair, tan hands gripping at his cargo-clad knees, Poseidon wondered if he was feeling _nervous_. Now wasn't that ridiculous? He was Poseidon Olympia, and he had dealt with things far worse than a teenage boy.

Like, his younger brother. That man (Child? Man-child?) was a nightmare and the worse brat he had ever met. Surely his kid would be better. Sally had raised him, after all.

He had dealt with Zeus; he could deal with a twelve year-old boy with mommy issues. After all, Poseidon didn't have the greatest parents himself. He knew how he had felt when people had tried to get close to him.

The young him had wanted them to _fuck off. _

And that's just what he'd do.

Poseidon wouldn't get close, wouldn't dare to, and he'd let the kid live his life his own way—just as he had wanted to years ago. Let the kid live out his fantasies, let him get kicked out of all the schools he wanted (Apparently, that was one of the kids favorite pass-times.), and who cared if he didn't get a scholarship to some great college? The twenty-some year-old had never went himself, so who was he to force his _son_ to go to one? It's not like he cared. In fact, if the pre-teen decided to run away with some broad, it would be a God-send.

_Isn't that right? _

"Yes," he growled to himself, nails digging into the fabric of his pants. He wouldn't care, couldn't care, as it wasn't his place. He didn't have to. Poseidon would, under no circumstances, get close to his child. To Percy. He would just silently give him what he needed, and the rest was up to the kid.

That's what he had wanted, and if the kid was anything like him…

It was for the best.

"Mr. Olympia?"

_ "Percy, your father's here to see you." He's going to hate me._

_ "Mr. Olympia? Right this way." Fuck. No thanks. Is it too late to hitch a cab?_

**_-P-J-O-_**

The door creaked open, and for a moment, two pairs of sea-green eyes sized each other up, one curious and the other calculating. The wider, more innocent pair quickly darted away. Poseidon blinked.

Holy similar!

The boy looked a lot like him, that was for sure.

He was slight in build, lithe and a little too scrawny for Poseidon's comfort. His hair was a carbon copy of Poseidon's own, a bird's nest at its best and a hurricane at its worst. It looked like it had been just brushed recently, if only by the tell-tale signs of the curly locks, stubbornly defying gravity as if to say _"Nice try, dumbass, but it'll take more than that!"_ He wasn't as tan as Poseidon himself was.

You know, now that he thought about it, Poseidon found he looked a bit like Sally too. His eyes, while green, were more of a wide, almond-shape, and he remembered blue eyes like those. Percy was feminine, unlike Poseidon, from his pianist fingers to the soft, gentle look off his facial features.

A pretty boy.

Percy could only think about how scary Poseidon seemed, and wonder how the hell he was seriously supposed to stay with him.

There was one thing the both of them could agree on. _This was going to be interesting. _

* * *

I think I need to clear something up.

Poseidon is like a rebellious teenager. He does what he wants when he wants to, and no one is there to stop him. Now that he was to deal with some kid (His pride won't allow him to get rid of him) he has to make some unwanted changes in life. He doesn't like that.

So he's decided that he's going to do the bare minimum like his own father did, and let Percy do what he always wanted to do. Live by his own rules. Poseidon thinks Percy's going to be a carbon copy of himself. (The Olympia blood is strong or whatever. Basically, I made Poseidon a dick, whoopsies.)

Let's prove him wrong, shall we? [loud cheering]

-Loyalty


	3. Chapter 3

**_If I owned Percy Jackson and the Olympians, I wouldn't be here right now._**

* * *

_"This is stupid." _Percy cringed, looking at anything but his father. His eyes darted about, from the rust colored throw pillows to the expensive vase and finally to the magnificently polished tile floor.

They were both seated in a beatifically decorated and spacious room, sitting stiffly on the leather couches and trying to pretend the other didn't exist. The flat screen was on but set to mute, and the gentle breeze that was wafting in from the open window had them shivering instead of smiling.

They'd been like this for way too long now.

Poseidon grimaced at him, eyebrows furrowing. The kid had been here for six hours and hadn't once spoken a single word to him. Not even a curse word. Perseus—_Percy, he had to remind reminded himself_—was stubbornly silent.

"I get that you don't like me, kid, I do. Can't say I blame you," there was a "_however"_ in that sentence, and he was sure _his son_ could hear it. "But if we don't work together until we can figure all this shit out, we should start plannin' our funerals."

Percy nodded slowly. Poseidon tried to smile, looking more like a shark than a goldfish.

"You know, how 'bout we start this new relationship with actually _talking to each other_?" Percy's eyes widened, and he slowly started to shake his head, trembling and biting his lip like Poseidon had just asked him to commit third-degree arson. Poseidon cursed and leapt up.

Against his will, the man found himself kneeling in front of the twelve-year-old and gripping him by his shoulders. The boy's breath hitched. "Look at me," he ordered. Hesitantly, the brat did as told.

Poseidon still couldn't help but be surprised.

He had always prided himself in his eyes, almost obsessed over them, but seeing them on someone else's face was oddly gratifying. They were so different from his. Freakishly open, Poseidon knew this kid would never be able to play poker if he kept the frightened deer act up.

Clearing his head with a shake, he focused his thoughts on something more important. "I don't like you," he began, and watched in slight amusement as those eyes flashed at him angrily. _Right back at you_, they seemed to say. He forced himself to soften his voice. "That doesn't mean I'm so awful as to forcefully super glue your pretty little lips shut. If you don't tell me stuff, I'm going to have to look through your files, and we both know that that's not going to warm me up to you." _I don't _read_, kiddo._

Percy's expression twisted. He started to shake his head again, but his eyes didn't leave Poseidon's. His lips parted, but he didn't speak. _I can't… I can't…_

Poseidon blinked.

"…You don't talk at all, do you, brat?"

_**-P-J-O-**_

_Well, duh. Wasn't it obvious? _Percy bit back the comments that bubbled behind his lips, instead just giving his father a lazy shrug and leaning away from him in a way that could be considered casual. In reality he was just trying to escape the smell of alcohol that tainted Poseidon's breath. The man had only drunk one glass of wine, but it didn't sit well with the twelve-year-old. _ALCOHOL = BAD. _

The lesson was elementary.

To be honest, the man had about as much emotion as a rock, and Percy wouldn't be surprised if empathy was one of the many that weren't in Poseidon's programming. Who's to say that he wouldn't just get sick of him and decide to get rid of him the old-fashioned way when he was high-up hocked up on crazy juice? Percy knew stuff like that could happen; he'd experienced a few close calls before.

Well, more than a few. But he didn't like thinking about it.

Gabe was a nice man. Yeah. _Nice._ He had kept him around, even when Percy hadn't done exactly as he said—like the good boy he'd been taught to be. It didn't matter that he had a disgusting taste in friends. He'd been there, unlike someone else. Percy gritted his teeth. Poseidon Olympia had left his mom; he'd known that for seven years now. She'd been _sixteen_, living with her not-so-rich uncle who could've cared less, and _he'd left her_. Alone with a kid she would've been better off without.

Percy hated him. He was worse than any of the guys he'd dealt with. Even more hot-headed than his pre-algebra teacher, more wicked than the sickos that were interested in him a bit too much. Poseidon'd hurt his mother, and that crossed the line. No one had messed with her when Percy was around when she was alive, and that hadn't changed even after she had… After she had…

Died. _It hadn't changed even after she had died._ This man was just a reminder of his mom's suffering, and now Percy was stuck with him as his guardian until further notice. He'd give him hell.

_No. Nonononono!_

That wasn't allowed. _"Promise me, Percy. Promise me you'll never talk against him. Swear."_

Who had she meant? Gabe, surely. He had been a total brat to him on his best days, even when he had been dutifully obeying his step father and his friend's every beck and call. But maybe she had known, Sally Jackson was a smart woman and it wouldn't be farfetched that her maternity instincts might have told her of the chances of her old boyfriend showing up in her son's life.

She would've wanted him to be polite. He would be until Poseidon pushed him away. Giving his father an odd smile, he refused to look him in the eye.

Percy wouldn't dare speak a word. He'd promised.

* * *

Three cheers for rushed out chapters, woo!

~Loyalty


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